Pomodoro Prince
by RandomWriter57
Summary: Six months after his departure from the Pomodoro, Antonio finds himself in a situation he'd never have expected: How will he cope with hiding Lovino from his parents, and will he ever figure out what these mysterious events are all about? Sequel to Pirates of the Pomodoro.
1. Normality

**Title:** Pomodoro Prince

**Rating:** T

**Genre:** Romance/Angst (kinda)

**Pairing:** Spamano

**Summary:** Six months after his departure from the _Pomodoro_, Antonio finds himself in a situation he'd never have expected: How will he cope with hiding Lovino from his parents, and will he ever figure out what these mysterious events are all about? Sequel to _Pirates of the Pomodoro_.

**Note:** I'd say read _Pirates of the Pomodoro_ first to get a better idea of what's going on, but if you'd rather not then you can just ask me what happened and I can tell you.

**Disclaimer:** I've spent enough time researching things that seem rather suspicious and yet have been written slightly unrealistically to realise that this is a work of fiction and since it's not being properly published as a novel I'm allowed to let some things be innacurate and the characters don't have to belong to me (which they don't, by the way).

* * *

**Chapter One: Normality**

Night-time is generally a time of night which is expected to be quiet and peaceful. As of modern times, or possibly even earlier in time, noise still rises from the streets, though not at quite the same volume. The amount of people decreases and very few modes of transport pass through the cities. Lights begin to flicker and dim, engulfing the streets in darkness. Whilst not completely at peace, the world is at least a little bit quieter.

However, on this night, the distant noises did not mask the sound of scuffled footsteps and grunts as a man was pushed into the wall by another man. The latter man pressed closer to his prey, almost close enough to feel the other's breath on his face. He muttered in a voice so low that none other than the pair could hear it. The former man's facial expression varied from anger to shock to fear. He shook his head as much as possible, though this wasn't much. He whispered pleading words, splurging from his mouth and falling into the tense atmosphere. The one holding him against the wall loosened his grip slightly, muttering a few more short words before letting go of the other man, allowing him to sink to the ground, cradling his face in his palms. The hunter walked away from his prey, vanishing into the midnight streets of Rome. The victim merely sat in his place, whispering to himself, why? What have I done to be so cursed?

And so, the night continued on, the normal not-so-quiet consuming the air, masking the events of the dark alleyway.

* * *

There were no dark alleyways or midnight assaults in the remnants of Antonio's dream as his brain pulled itself from the void and resurfaced in the waking day. Groaning and shifting over onto his other side, the prince almost wished he was still asleep.

That is, until he heard an oh-so-familiar voice say, "Nice to see you're finally awake."

Emerald eyes shot open to the sight of a dark-haired, hazel-green eyed Italian, standing by the window. His body was framed by the glow of the morning light, making him look god-sent, or at least to Antonio he did. Whilst his attractive appearance seemed heavenly, the unsmiling mouth seemed to retract all thoughts of him being an angel at all. Antonio grinned sleepily, glad that the first thing he saw was such a nice sight.

"G'morning, Lovi~"

Lovino smirked, a smirk that was natural on his face despite his tendency to scowl at most people. However, Antonio wasn't exactly 'most people'. There were only a few people who didn't receive a scowl at all times, and the Spaniard was proud to call himself one of them.

Rolling out of bed, he stood, yawning before pacing over to the Italian. He smiled, and this time it was returned; a beautiful, almost invisible smile which lit up Lovino's face. There were even less people who would ever witness this smile, so Antonio felt truly privileged to be one of those too.

Leaning in, Antonio pecked the shorter male on the lips before embracing him, taking in his scent and feeling the coolness of his skin. He frowned slightly upon feeling this.

"How long were you out for?"

"Only a few hours, don't worry."

At night as Antonio slept, Lovino would often venture out into the city and roam the almost-empty streets. Antonio didn't exactly know why - perhaps he was tired of being stuck in the castle with him?

It had been three weeks since Lovino announced his decision to stay with Antonio in the castle. At first he had been shocked and surprised, with many questions, worries and confusions about this plan. However, he had been unable to get a proper reason out of the Italian, only a vague, "I'm curious." Three weeks later and still Antonio was none the wiser.

Antonio nodded absent-mindedly, unwrapping himself from Lovino. The latter yawned a little and headed over to the unmade bed, diving right under the covers. "Go for breakfast, let me sleep a little."

Smiling, the elder male bid his lover goodbye and left the room, locking the door and turning the hand-made sign to 'do not disturb' as usual. This was a daily practice, since he couldn't exactly let any of the maids find out he was secretly hiding an ex-pirate in his room, could he?

Plodding along the plush red carpets in his bare feet, he descended the golden-railed stairs and headed towards the main kitchen. He pushed open the door, grinning at the faces that had turned towards him. _"¡Hola, buenos días!"_

The cooks smiled back at him, greeting him in the same fashion. He walked to the fridge and picked out a perfect tomato, washing it in a nearby sink before sinking his teeth into the juicy flesh. He chatted with the cooks for a while; they were used to his pre-breakfast trips to the kitchen. After eating three tomatoes, he pocketed another and left, returning back to his room.

It had only been about half an hour, so Lovino was still fast asleep. The peaceful expression on his face soothed Antonio, putting his mind at ease; there were often times when he would return to a troubled or scared expression from nightmares which were never explained to him. Still, he was happy Lovino was alright for the time being.

He quickly changed into more suitable clothing, making sure he looked presentable enough for the time being. He didn't have anything planned for the day, but it was always better to be prepared in case something came up, and his mother would surely be very unhappy with him if he walked around in his nightwear all day.

Suddenly remembering the tomato, he picked it up from the dresser where he'd left it and placed it on the bedside table for when Lovino awoke. Finally, he kissed his forehead_. "Dulces sueños, mi cariño."_

He then left the room, bound the dining room for his official breakfast.

* * *

**Translations:**

_¡Hola, buenos días!_ - Hello, good day! (Spanish)  
_Dulces sueños, mi cariño -_ Sweet dreams, my dear (Spanish)  
_Pomodoro_ - Tomato (Italian)

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hello!

Yes, I've finally written the sequel to _Pirates of the Pomodoro_. How amazing.

I hope you enjoy this.

By the way, I'll only respond to anon reviews down here, so as to save space, so I'll reply to everyone else's in the other way.

The update days will be the same as _Pirates_: Sunday and Wednesday.

Thanks for reading, see you on Wednesday~

**EDIT (16/12/13):** Got rid of the duplicate, thanks to the reviewers who pointed this out!

~RandomWriter57 ( = ¬ = )7 *salutes you*


	2. Coping

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Hetalia or its characters. They belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Coping**

Falling lightly from the sky, the blossoms drifted slowly to the slightly damp soil that lay above and around the roots of the many trees which lined the palace gardens. As usual, the flowers in the beds were blooming beautifully and the bushes and shrubs were pruned to perfection; not much else could be expected of the palace gardeners.

Whilst it was mostly flowers which were grown in the gardens, there was a small vegetable patch near the kitchens, the fruits of which were used in all sorts of concoctions for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The cooks were creative when it came to food, though they did keep in mind to make it the best they could for their masters. Antonio wasn't necessary picky about food, nor was his father, but his mother had a strict diet and a substantial list of foods she would not eat whatsoever. The cooks did their best to work around this and her family did their best to ignore her picky attitude; they were happy so long as there was food set in front of them at all.

The maids, butlers and various other employees would eat their dinner whenever they had the time to, which was usually at around 5 o' clock in the evening, at the earliest, or 7 o' clock at latest. They were allowed to eat whatever they wanted, so long as it was within reason and there was enough left to last until more food was imported or grown. Antonio didn't know the eating habits of any of the staff, as he'd never really considered it to be important.

However, Lovino, in this matter, was an exception. Usually he was a gourmet off the sea, expecting only the finest dishes cooked to perfection - on the ship there had been a limit to how good they could make the food so he'd learnt to survive on what was there. However, now he was in a more complicated situation. He couldn't live off air, he needed food too. Antonio knew this, and often brought him tomatoes from his daily trips to the kitchen. This would keep him going for a little while, until Antonio deemed it safe enough to return to the room with a few slices of bread pinched from the breakfast table. At lunch he'd usually go out if Antonio would be out on the town - his excuse being that he'd be less likely to be caught and it would give the maids a chance to clean the room a little - but otherwise, he would once again have to wait for stolen foods from the kitchens. Recently, Antonio had had the bright idea of placing a fruit bowl in his room, telling his parents that he was trying to improve his diet to more healthy foods. In reality, the fruit bowl offered Lovino a little more food to eat when he had none.

If Lovino got hungry at night, which happened often, he would buy some food down the town, or steal from random trees and bushes. He knew what was poisonous, so he was sensible about it. His decision to stay with Antonio three weeks ago may have seemed slightly rash, but really it had been carefully planned and thought out; Lovino had everything under control.

During the day, however, he would tend to get bored with sitting around doing nothing. Antonio would talk to him when he could, but he couldn't escape his princely duties. Lovino would go out during the day, but it was too much of a risk - it was pretty hard to miss someone scaling down from a high-up window in the middle of daylight hours.

So to pass the time, he had set to writing letters, reading books and doodling endlessly over stray sheets of paper. He had snooped through every corner of Antonio's room, criticised the clothing in the wardrobe, chuckled at photo albums of the Spaniard's childhood. He really hated being so bored, but there was no way out of it. He had a job to do, and he had to be inside the castle walls to do it.

If someone asked him what that job was, he wouldn't be able to tell them anything at all. It would ruin the plan, get him kicked out of the perfect place to be in. He couldn't afford to mess up, not now.

Lovino sighed, closing his eyes. If only his father hadn't done that thing all those years ago, he wouldn't be anywhere near this mess.

He couldn't be too regretful though; if his father hadn't done that thing, he'd have never met Antonio at all.

* * *

Lying side-by-side, the two lovers only had eyes for each other. The light breeze drifting through the open balcony doors did not chill them, for they had each other's warmth. The silence of the night did not faze them, for they had each other's heartbeats committed to memory. The lack of light did not blind them, for they could see each other and that was all that mattered to them.

Each touch was soft and loving, each kiss sweet and chaste. Their gazes lingered, filled with love and happiness. They did not need words, for anything they wanted to say was obvious. They were in love.

Of course, this sounds incredibly cheesy and would probably make Lovino close whatever book he was reading with this passage. However, even he couldn't completely deny that this was exactly how he felt around Antonio. No matter how cool and aloof he tried to be, these lovey-dovey moments with the one he loved were beautiful.

They weren't professional lovers; sometimes their kisses turned to laughter and their touches turned to tickling, but they were happy. They laughed and loved and were happy, and that's all Lovino could ever have hoped for.

But eventually, they had to find out that love isn't easy, and this period of perfection would soon fade away into a sea of trouble, stress and confusion. Love is a war, and for this pair, peacetime would soon be over.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Bonjour!

Wow, I wasn't expecting such a warm reaction! Thank you all very much for all of the follows, favourites and the three reviews! *hugs you all*

Hopefully you've enjoyed this chapter as much as the first.

Things will begin to get interesting, as you might be able to tell, so watch out!

I don't have much more to say, so I'll see you on Sunday!

~Random


	3. Happenings

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Hetalia or its characters. Still.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Happenings**

**_ATTACK ON GUARD STOPPED BY MYSTERY MAN_**

The headline, emboldened and emblazoned upon the front page of the newspaper, immediately caught Antonio's eye as the paper was shown to him. His father, the bearer of this newspaper, soon retracted it to hand to his wife. He crossed his arms and scowled.

"Matters like this seem to be a regular occurrence, no?"

And so they did. It wasn't a rare sight to see a murder or assault in the news. However, the situation must be rather grave; why else would something like this be on the front page?

"A guard? They can't mean..." The Queen scanned through the article, her expression changing from worry to horror in two seconds flat. She looked up at her husband, eyes wide. "One of our palace guards?"

The King nodded gravely, watching the paper as it was put back on the table. "Yes, but there's something odd about this attack..."

Antonio grabbed the abandoned paper and skimming the article, picking out the more important-looking information. He stopped about two-thirds through the article, where it described how the attack was stopped.

_'Scifo was still putting up a fair fight, but knew he was a lost cause; that is, until a dark shadow swooped in, knocking him over. "I didn't see much," he says, "but all I know is that at one point I was being targeted by some crazy guy with a knife, and the next thing I knew, I was on my side, almost unconscious as some random stranger chased the attacker off." He was unable to identify either of the two involved, and no other witnesses have been found.'_

His father had just finished explaining to his mother that the guard, Scifo, was alive and well, healing his injuries in a nearby hospital. She let out a breath of relief before saying something to her husband.

Antonio didn't hear what she said, too busy pondering over what he had just read. Who was it who had saved the guard, and why would someone want to attack the guards anyway? The only conclusion he could come to was that they probably wanted into the castle, and that he and his family were lucky the mystery man had been there to stop the attack.

* * *

The man kept his head down as he walked, making sure his footsteps were quiet so as not to attract unwanted attention. Attention may bring recognition, and being recognised would cause a hell of a lot of trouble for him. He had been careless last night; he had let what happened slip into the eye of the public media. Next time, he would have to make sure the source of the leak was plugged securely.

He was pretty sure how it had gotten out; after hearing from someone about the incident, there was no other event for it to have been. _What a nuisance,_ he thought._ Now I'll have to be even more careful, since more guards will surely be patrolling the area._

It was almost night-time. Nobody would be out, but he had to be safe; he had to make sure he wasn't found out. That's why he went out at nights, there were fewer people around. He preferred it that way, with barely anyone around. He didn't like being in crowds; he always felt like someone was watching him, analysing his every move. In the night, however, his moves were coated by shadows, his figure a mere silhouette. He felt like he could control the dark, bend it to his will, use it to his advantage. Nobody could see him, and that was the way he liked it.

The street lamps flickered dully as he made his way onward, his body merging into the dark horizon ahead of him.

* * *

That evening, after dinner, Antonio finally returned to his room, where he found Lovino waiting impatiently for him.

"Finally! I was beginning to wonder whether you'd ever get back." The Italian stood from where he had lain on the bed, arms crossing over his chest.

A smile was given. "You know I'd never leave you alone for so long if I had a choice."

A smirk accompanied the reply. "Well, you don't. Looks like we'll have to deal with it."

Antonio pulled out the food he had scavenged from the table. There wasn't much, but it was hard to get a lot of food from the table without seeming suspicious, and he wasn't allowed to eat dinner in his room; His parents were firm believers that dinnertime is family time.

The small amount didn't matter much anyway. Both of them knew Lovino would probably get more later, when he went out.

After eating, the pair lay together on the bed, chatting absent-mindedly about this, that and who-knows-what. Antonio told Lovino about the attack. The latter said nothing, only nodded, face grim.

"People who just go and attack innocent people like that shouldn't even be allowed to be called people." Lovino muttered darkly, eyes narrowing at the thought.

"Didn't your grand-" Antonio stopped himself there. For two weeks, they had not spoken a word of Lovino's deceased grandfather or father. Antonio didn't know how the younger would react to the upbringing of the topic, and wasn't too keen to find out. Nor did he want to make Lovino recall some of the worst memories he would ever have. However, Lovino wasn't stupid, he knew exactly what the Spaniard was about to say. The words hung in the air, unable to simply disappear under the tense atmosphere.

Looking away, Lovino sighed. "Yes, he did use to attack people, but not much, and he calmed down after we were born. Plus those people weren't exactly innocent."

Antonio sighed internally out of relief. He didn't know what he had expected, but he was thankful for the calm, neutral reaction that had been given. Knowing to tread carefully, he changed the subject. "The tomatoes are almost ready to be picked."

They continued to chatter like this until they were almost asleep, at which point Antonio got changed, called a goodnight to his parents and the staff, and clambered back into bed, sleeping peacefully with Lovino by his side.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hello again~

In this chapter, the plot is beginning to thicken, as you can probably tell. It's gonna get even thicker as we go on, I promise!

Thank you all for the favourites, follows and the three more reviews! I'm glad you're all liking it so far, and hopefully you've enjoyed this chapter too.

Now for a quick notice: the next update **will not** be on Wednesday. This is because Wednesday is Christmas and I'm not going to have enough time to update on Christmas day. However, I will update on **Thursday** instead, so look out for that! Updates will go back to the normal schedule on Sunday. Thanks!

Have a great Christmas, Hanukkah, Yule or whatever you may celebrate!

Happy Holidays, and see you on Thursday!

~Random


	4. Secrets

**DISCLAIMER**: Still don't own Hetalia...

* * *

**Chapter Four: Secrets**

It was another sunny day in Madrid. Antonio was in his room, picking his clothes for the day. Lovino was snuggled in Antonio's bed, watching his every move with a sharp eye.

"Don't you ever get bored?" Antonio asked. "I could ask my parents if I'm allowed a friend round for a while, then you'll be able to get out more."

Lovino shook his head, further burying his head into the soft pillow. "Nah, don't worry. I'll be fine up here; you don't need to go to the trouble." In truth, Lovino couldn't allow Antonio to reveal that he even existed. That would cause a lot more trouble that it was worth, and would almost entirely ruin the plan.

Antonio cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Really? I would hate to be shut up here all day..."

"I'm fine." Lovino said stubbornly. "Don't forget to bring me tomatoes."

Antonio sighed, nodding at the request. He then left the room, fully clothed. He wandered towards the kitchens, head filled with questions and worries about the Italian hidden in his room. Something was off about Lovino, and he wanted to find out what it was.

Reaching the kitchens, he entered, grinning and greeting the staff as usual. As usual, they all replied with smiles and waves or words of greeting. Antonio sat on his usual counter, a spare one near the back, and ate a tomato that had been left there. They then began to talk, as usual.

"Say, did you see the paper yesterday?" One cook asked, stirring some soup as he did.

"Yeah, really unfortunate thing, that." Another cook replied, making her way to the fridge and pulling out some ingredients.

"At least Scifo was alright though." A young dishwasher said, placing a wet plate on the rack by the sink.

"But why would someone want into the castle?" Antonio said, chewing thoughtfully. "It's obvious that was their intention."

The cooks were quiet, letting the only noise be the sizzling, bubbling or slicing of the food. Nobody answered the question, and he wasn't sure whether it was because they didn't know or because they couldn't say. Shrugging, he let them change the subject to something a little more light-hearted. He couldn't remove the questions from his brain, but he could at least try to ignore them for now.

After eating his tomatoes, he bid the chefs farewell, another two tomatoes in his pocket for Lovino. He would go to his room, leave the tomatoes for him then go back downstairs for breakfast. Perfect!

Antonio walked the oh-so-familiar halls of his home, never pausing to take in the freshly-dusted paintings or the newly-cleaned carpets. He merely continued on, even the carpet fibres giving way to their superior, his feet.

The walls, however coated with paintings they were, were not the thickest of walls. One could easily stand by a door and listen to an entire conversation, if they were careful about it. Most of the rooms were silent, with the occasional clock ticking away in the background. Some had the quiet steps of maids as they remade beds and dusted furniture. There was one room, however, that emitted a particularly different noise, loud enough that it could barely be heard through the oak door. Upon hearing the voices, Antonio walked over to the door, quietly standing against the wall beside it and concentrating on the hushed voices inside.

"It was 12 years ago Isabella, can we please let it go?" Antonio recognised this as his father, speaking to his mother.

"Fernando, what happened last year shows that it's definitely still a problem." His mother's tone was agitated.

"Are you even sure it's the same person?"

"Of course it is! How many people do you find with a name like that, even in Italy?"

"Isa, let it go. It's been 7 months since he got back, it's over. I'm sure we'll have nothing to do with that family ever-"

"And what makes you so sure?! What if he was the one who attacked Scifo?!" Antonio remembered that Scifo was the name of the guard who had been attacked. "I just think we should tell him, he's old enough now-"

"Isabella, it's over." Fernando's interruption was a sign of an ended conversation. "It is not a matter which has any meaning any more. The night anything comes up with that family is the night this kingdom falls, and that is not happening any time soon, I assure you."

Isabella made no attempt to recover the conversation, leaving Antonio to slip away silently. 'That family...12 years...7 months...' Just who were his parents talking about? What was going on, and why did it feel like everyone was keeping secrets from him? Antonio sighed, continuing his path to his room, his mind filled with endless questions that would probably never be answered.

* * *

At breakfast, he was quiet. He poked at his food, not partaking in the conversations floating around him, supported by only his parents and the occasional staff member collecting or serving plates of food. Of course, for someone as talkative as Antonio, this was easily noticeable.

"Antonio, are you okay?" His mother asked in worry. "You're not ill are you? Should I call the doctor?"

Antonio shook his head, mumbling that he was fine. This didn't seem to satisfy the queen.

"Please speak up darling. Something must be wrong; you're hardly ever this quiet."

His father spoke next, not seeming too worried about his son's condition. "Don't worry Isa, he's probably not fully awake yet!"

The tone of voice was fake, poorly concealing his opinion, which was the opposite of what was said; they all knew Antonio was very chipper in the morning, unlike many other people.

Five minutes later, he pushed his plate away, standing. He murmured something before beginning to walk away. He then took notice of his mother's words.

"Honey, do you not want to at least take a plate up? You might get hungry, and we don't want you to starve."

I can get more food for Lovino this way, he thought, backtracking to the table. He picked up his abandoned plate and put a few more slices of toast on it. He then forced a smile to his mother before leaving once more. Even though the toast was cooling quickly, Antonio was sure Lovino would enjoy it.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hello~

I hope you all are enjoying your holidays! It must be nice to not have to stress as much as usual~

I also hope you're also still enjoying the story! It's growing more mysterious now, I think, and perhaps a few of you already have theories about what's going on? Anyhow, thank you once again for all of the follows, favourites and reviews!

**To anonymous1:** I apologise, I wasn't aware of that! I'm afraid I don't have much knowlege of Hannukah, so I apologise if my comment was somewhat rude or ignorant-sounding.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and I'll see you all on Sunday!

~Random


	5. Unexpected

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Unexpected**

Everything happened so quickly, Antonio could barely even begin to comprehend what was happening.

Every year, Madrid held an annual festival to celebrate the coming of summer. Every year, the Spanish Royal Family would attend this festival, but not as members of the upper class. You see, this was the only time of the year when they could truly 'let their hair down', to use an already overused phrase, and be free of the worries of the hierarchy. No formalities were present - even the townspeople had got the message that they didn't need to be formal with them at this time. It was wonderful.

Antonio, personally, loved this festival. He loved how his mother would offer to help with the refreshments for the street parties, which were basically tables from different houses lined up along the street with piles of food so everybody could enjoy it together. He loved how his father would go around the homeless and less well-off people and talk to them, refusing to discriminate against them despite the difference in class. He loved how he was able to interact with the children of the town; they would dance, sing and play together all day, and some of the more familiar children had even begun to call him _'Hermano Toni'._

It was disappointing that he had missed it the previous year (due to having been kidnapped, though God forbid he tell the children such a thing), especially with what the children had been telling him about it. Apparently they'd had a contest to see who could yell the loudest, and the bullfight in the arena had been amazing to watch. His disappointment wasn't too much of a problem though - he'd had an equally wonderful time meeting Lovino and experiencing a short life of mild piracy (another thing he didn't dare tell the children).

Anyway, the festival was wonderful. Colour filled the air, and the joyous atmosphere was so contagious, Antonio would bet that even Lovino (whose location was a mystery at this moment) couldn't resist smiling along with everyone. It was perfect.

It was so perfect, in fact, that Antonio didn't even see the knife coming until it flew straight past him into a sack of wheat (which was on a merchant's cart that was conveniently right behind him).

It should have been rather obvious though, what with the attacker's screams mixed with the surprised gasps and cries of the other people who had noticed. Antonio barely saw the man who had thrown the knife. His blue eyes bulged with fear and madness and his half-bald head of static, greying hair, looked like it had been dragged through a bush backwards. However, the sight was brief, as he was immediately pulled away into a dark alleyway by an unknown force, followed by the sound of someone being struck over the head or in the back.

Almost as soon as this had begun, it had ended, and soon the party had restarted, the worries chased away by the carefree guitar music and the fiesta atmosphere.

"It was so scary! I never expected that to ever happen..."

Antonio had just finished telling Lovino about the vents of the festival earlier. All the way through, the Italian had merely nodded with no sound, offering no opinions on the subject. Once the explanation was finished, he gave a final nod.

"Sounds eventful." Lovino said, his tone holding something that Antonio couldn't quite place. Was it perhaps indifference, or boredom? Antonio couldn't help but feel a little hurt.

Hoping for a reaction, Antonio said, "Well yes, I kind of did almost die."

Lovino merely hummed, listening but not really paying attention as he looked out of the window, in the mirror, at the closet - anywhere but Antonio, basically.

Antonio frowned, leaning forward and poking his boyfriend in the forehead. "Hey, have you even been paying attention?"

"Of course I was paying attention, dumbass!" He defended, his darks brows furrowed as usual over his hazel eyes. "You almost died, I know. It's happened before though, right?"

It seemed like the Italian only asked this to humour the Spaniard, but he did not complain. Instead he answered, "Well yes, I have been in situations where I could have died, but I was prepared at the time!"

"I know, but-"

"Lovino, I almost died." Antonio interrupted, hurt in his eyes and a slight spark of anger lying beneath. "I almost died, and you're acting as though I'm talking about the weather or something! How can you-"

"Antonio," Lovino stopped him, reaching up to hold his tan face in his less tanned hands. Despite his bad mood, the Prince couldn't help but lean into the touch a little, comforted by the warmth of those hands. His eyes held the same determination that had been present when they had met a year ago. His face was unsmiling as usual, but the expression was serious, so much so that Antonio longed to see the usual flustered frustration in its place. "You are alive. What happened at the festival doesn't matter. You are here in front of me, living, breathing. You are alive, and that's all that matters." His eyes softened, his lips curving up a little. "You're here."

Antonio returned the smile, anger fading as though it had never been present. He leaned towards Lovino, who complied and closed the distance with a long, sweet kiss. Their lips touched lightly before pressing down more securely, their tongues flicking out to taste the sweetness of the other's lips. It was one of many kisses the pair had shared, but the quality never diminished. They both thought (though a certain party would vehemently deny it) that every kiss was amazing, and that they simply could not ask for any better.

They parted after a few minutes, panting slightly but grinning. Grins turned into chuckles, which in turn turned into a fit of laughter, chasing away the bad feelings of earlier. The fight was far from forgotten, but at least for now they had made the mood much lighter.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Hermano Toni_ - Brother Toni (Spanish)

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hello again~

This chapter's a bit short, sorry. More will start happening around...oh, next chapter! Ah, it should be good~

Thank you all again as usual for any follows, favourites and reviews. You know I really do appreciate them, and they're what keeps me going with this story!

Speaking of which, are you all enjoying the story so far? If you are, don't feel afraid to tell me what you like and dislike! I love hearing your opinions about the story~ Just please make any critisism constructive so I can work on whatever you think needs improvement.

Also, I've started working on the side-fic thing I mentioned in the AN at the end of PotP. I've only got one chapter done so far, and I'm not sure when I'll be able to work on it, but would you rather I upload it now or wait until I've got more done? Please tell me your thoughts.

I'd better go, see you on Wednesday!

~Random


	6. Visit

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Visit**

There was a knock on the door.

Whenever this happened, there would always be a great scramble for Lovino to hide out of sight while Antonio distracted the person at the door, hoping they wouldn't see the Italian trying to move discreetly behind him. Luckily it usually worked, and Lovino had not been detected by any of those who had knocked on the door yet.

Today, behind the door was Antonio's parlour maid, Kat. A shy but rather busty young woman, she smiled nervously at him when he opened the door. "G-good morning, sir," she greeted him.

"Ah, good morning, Kat!" Antonio smiled back. It was a polite, friendly smile, which was usually reserved for those Antonio liked but did not know well. "What brings you here today?" He leaned towards the door frame, his right arm pressed up against the wood above his head, the elbow bent into a more comfortable position. This was somehow able to block most of the visible room out of sight, providing Lovino with a safety net for hiding.

Kat clasped her hands, perhaps in an attempt to quell her nerves (not that it helped her stutter). "Y-you have a visitor in the Entrance Hall, t-though I'm sure if you don't go down soon he'll m-most likely invite himself up anyway."

Antonio had only a small hint towards who this visitor may be, since only those he was close to would have the gall to invite themselves up without waiting to be acknowledged.

"I'll be right down," he said. "Would you mind? I just need to get something sorted before I go down."

"O-oh, of course!" Kat chuckled nervously, taking the hint to leave as she backed away, bowing slightly before turning and rushing down the stairs.

Antonio turned back into his room, closing the door securely behind him. "Lovino, it's safe to come out now!"

Said Italian popped out of the closet, choking a little as he stumbled onto the carpet. He grimaced. "God, how old are the clothes in there? They've got enough dust on them to be a hundred years old or something!"

The Spaniard chuckled, moving over and wiping some dust from the other's shoulders. "Those are the clothes I never wear, so of course they'd be dusty. Are you okay?" He said the last part with a hint of concern.

"I'm fine," Lovino assured him, gently pushing his hands away. "What was that all about?"

"Oh, it was just Kat. She says-"

"Kat? Who the hell's that?" Was the grumbled reply, an eyebrow raised in slight suspicion.

Antonio laughed again, though this one was a little more nervous. "She's just the parlour maid. Anyway, she says I have a visitor that I ought to go see now. I'll be back up in no time, I'm sure." He smiled gently at the smiling face in front of him. "I'll see you in about half an hour?"

Lovino nodded. "Not that I care, bastard. Just go see your visitor."

Antonio grinned, kissing his partner quickly on the lips before walking away, exiting the room with a, "See you later!" He then locked the door and followed the earlier tracks of the parlour maid downstairs.

* * *

When he reached the Entrance Hall, he was faced with someone he hadn't seen for a few months. "Francis?" He half-asked, his mouth curving upwards.

Francis looked up from his nails, which he had been inspecting in rather a bored manner, and smiled back at his friend, standing up with his arms outstretched. "_Bonjour, Antoine_! It has been too long." He barely looked any different from how he had as few months before, with the same wavy blond hair falling around his shoulders and the same calm blue eyes gracing his face. He had grown a little more stubble, not long enough to become a beard but short enough to appear good-looking. His fashion sense was pristine as always, today donned in a white suit with brown dress shoes and a blue shirt, the first few buttons left undone.

Antonio accepted the open arms in a hug, greeting his best friend as they always had back in the old days. When they parted, they both grinned. "_Si_, it has been far too long!" Antonio said.

Francis chuckled, causing a few spying maids to giggle quietly. He, of course, heard this and blew them a quick kiss before gently taking Antonio's arm, guiding him towards the staircase.

"So, how is _le petit Italien_?" He asked in a low voice. "Still rude as always, I suppose?"

Antonio laughed. "He's good, I think. Probably annoyed at me for taking so long, but he'll be okay."

"Ah,_ bien_. And of course, yourself? How are you? I heard about the festival."

He smiled sadly. "Ah, _si_, of course you heard. I'm okay, I didn't get injured or anything. I think everyone was okay, and the attacker was put in prison."

"Good, good." Francis nodded. "Well, hopefully nothing like that will happen again! You gave me the fright of my life."

Laughter ensued. "Seriously Francis, I'm fine. Now, do you want to see Lovi?"

"Ah, _oui_, of course, _mon ami_. You know me so well."

* * *

Lovino tapped his foot impatiently, arms crossed against his chest and eyes watchful as a cat's on the clock on the wall. The hands moved around slowly, each tick as deadening as the last. A sigh emanated from his mouth as his eyes flicked towards the stationary door before returning to the clock. Antonio was taking far too long down there... Who on Earth was he with? Lovino wasn't too bothered, but he had nothing to do and was inwardly aching to just lie down and sleep by his partner.

What, he was allowed to want to be with the one he loved too! He wasn't completely heartless.

Suddenly the lock turned, and the door opened once more. The Italian sat up a little straighter, before turning and slouching a little, as though he hadn't noticed it.

"Lovi, I'm back!" said Antonio, audibly pausing for a moment before closing the door behind him.

"I can see that, bastard." Lovino replied in a tone that implied he didn't care, though his heart begged to differ.

"Ah, you are still so rude to him. _L'amour_ between you is so strange sometimes," said an unexpected voice.

Lovino turned around, eyes wide before he realised who had spoken and relaxed slightly, the annoyed expression returning to his face. "Oh, it's the wine-bastard. What a surprise." Sarcasm dripped from his words.

Francis smiled. "It's nice to see you too, Lovino." He then turned to Antonio, smiling sheepishly. "Hey, _Antoine_, you wouldn't mind if I quickly talked to Lovino alone, would you? It's rather important, so-"

"Oh, that's okay!" said Antonio, though his voice betrayed his confused tone by wavering as he said this. "I'll just wait outside." He moved towards the door again, giving his lover a little wave before moving through the door and closing it once more.

The room fell silent for a few moments before Francis spoke. "How are you doing?"

"Why the fuck do you want to know?" Lovino spat rather half-heartedly.

"You're doing something hard, and I wouldn't be surprised if you felt like," the Frenchman gestured randomly as he thought of a word, "_merde_." He chuckled.

Lovino stayed silent for a few seconds before stating, "You're not the type to worry about that sort of thing."

Francis' face returned to a blank one before he gave a shrug. "You never know. Anyway, I just wondered if you needed any help."

"Of course not, I'm doing fucking fine!"

"Ah, of course, I am not sure how I doubted you!" he laughed. "I'll get Antoine back in, _oui_?"

"Do what you like."

Another chuckle sounded, followed by the murmur of something that Lovino couldn't quite hear before the door was opened and the lovable Spaniard was back in the room.

And judging from what happened after that, Lovino knew this day would give him a major headache by the end of it all.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Bonjour _- Hello (French)_  
Antoine_ - Antonio (French)_  
Si _- Yes (Spanish)_  
Le petit Italien _- The little Italian (French)_  
Bien _- Good (French)_  
Mon ami _- My friend (French)_  
L'amour _- [The] love (French)_  
Merde _- Shit (French)_  
Oui_ - Yes (French)

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Hello, hello, hello! And a Happy New Year to all of you! May your 2014 be better than 2013 was!

Your theories so far are very interesting! I'm glad you all seem to be liking the story so far~

Thank you all as usual for the follows, favourites and reviews! I really am extremely greatful for them, they mean the world to me and make me smile more than anything. I'm sorry if I don't reply to your review, it just means I either don't know how to respond or if I do respond, I'll be giving things away~

Now, I'd best be off, Sherlock's on very soon and I don't want to miss it!

~Random


	7. Plots

**DISCLAIMER: **No.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Plots**

The sky was dark as he tailed the figure in the distance. The person was scurrying along, often looking around himself as though to check for anyone watching him. The follower smirked._ He's not looking hard enough...how careless._

Soon, he had almost completely caught up with him. Sticking to dark alleys and shadowed areas, not once had he been caught tailing the man. This was far too easy.

As soon as he was on level with the man, he shot out, grabbing him in a headlock and dragging him into the alleyway. He pushed the victim against the wall, holding his hands above his head to keep him there. The attacker growled in a low voice. "Tell me everything you know."

The victim shook under his hold, his expression similar to that of a deer caught in the headlights, but soon anger was also present. "I would never-"

"I know where you live." He interrupted. "You don't want to know the things I could do to your family."

The anger dissipating, he shook his head, mouth agape. The wetness of his eyes was in contrast to the dryness of his mouth. "You wouldn't." He breathed, denying the threat. His attacker's eyes showed no lies, but he kept denying. "No, please, anything but that! My family, please, don't..."

The attacker loosened his grip slightly. "Meet me at the cafe along the road at this time tomorrow night. Have the information in a safe document. Show no one, tell no one. I'll be waiting." He backed away before turning towards the street, then turned back and said, "You know the consequences, so be there."

As the attacker left, the victim slid down the wall, pale and shaking. The tears spilt from his eyes, fleeing from the warmth and falling to the cold ground. The man didn't even notice, focused on his fear and worry. His fate was sealed, and he had to comply, for his family's sake.

Two days later, all of the available information had been acquired, and the source of it quieted. There had been a final meeting for the group of those who required the information, after which the man had been given the information and formulated his own little plan within the plan within the information.

The plan concerned within the information was a plot of such great importance that he just _had_ to be involved in it. He knew every detail of the plan, had in great detail devised his own plan, and was ready to be part of the operation the next night, disguised as the one he had gotten this information from. Everything was ready.

Due to the attack on the guard not too long before, the group knew they would have to be more careful, which made it a lot easier for the man to disguise himself as part of them, especially since he was involved in the aforementioned attack. They would never suspect that their enemy would be within their own group, helping them with their plan.

To take care of his plan before this plan would be stupid; he would get caught so easily, and all would be for naught. Afterwards would also be useless, since by then he would have failed his own plans. To inform the victims of the plan would also be useless, since they would never believe him and it would also blow his cover, leaving a window of opportunity for someone else to make his plans fail. This was the overall best idea, despite his detest for the ideals of the gang conducting the plan.

The next night, he would do it. He would carry out his plans, and by god would he let nobody thwart them.

The past few days had been peaceful for Antonio, but his mind was still full of unanswered questions. He had given up trying to answer them, and had decided to just get on with life.

It was about eleven PM. He was settling down for the evening, whilst Lovino was pulling on a pair of boots. He frowned at the Italian. "How come you've been leaving for such a long time for so many nights?" Usually Lovino would go out once every two or three nights, and would never be out for much longer than three hours. But since about four days ago, his trips were longer, and more often.

"Got stuff to do." Lovino answered, standing up straight. "Tomorrow will be the last night, don't worry."

This, however, just added to his worries. "Tomorrow? What's happening tomorrow?"

Lovino walked over and kissed his head. He smiled slightly. "Nothing. Just go to sleep." With that, the Italian walked to the balcony and jumped over, scaling down the side of the building and out of sight.

Antonio lay there for a while, just thinking. Lovino had been very secretive lately. As had his parents, and the staff. What was going on and why wasn't he being told anything?

When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were pierced by possibilities and impossibilities, stretched situations and exaggerations. His parents wore fake smiles, talking about trivial things like the weather whilst knives were held to their throats, or guns against their backs. The kitchen staff were silent, all fallen to the floor, pools of blood around them. The furniture was covered with many years' worth of dust. Lovino, gorgeous, scowling Lovino, stood with his back to him, on the railing of the balcony. _Everything is fine, don't worry,_ he said as he fell. Each time Antonio screamed, he felt everyone drifting further and further from him, until he was completely and utterly alone.

When he awoke in the middle of the night, he was alone, not even Lovino there to calm him as the tears fell from his eyes. He was forced to calm himself down, tell himself that everything was fine, that everyone was alive. He had to force himself back to sleep, trying to focus on happier thoughts in an attempt to escape the horror of his nightmares.

When he awoke, he felt confused, worried, slightly anxious and afraid. He couldn't help it, of course; After all, for many, the most frightening thing is the prospect of that which is unknown.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Helloooo! Uploading this in a bit of a rush since I forgot to before Sherlock and I want to get to bed soon since I've got school tomorrow.

Not much time to talk about the chapter so I shall simply thank you all as usual for the reviews, favourites and follows, and bid you farewell until Wednesday.

Adieu!

~Random


	8. Operational

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Operational**

When Lovino returned in the early hours of the morning, he couldn't help but feel worried and a tad guilty as he saw Antonio's frowning face, the dried remnants of tears staining his tanned cheeks. His brows were furrowed, twitching occasionally. His dark chestnut hair was spread around his head, the curls tangling and creating a mess on his head. The blankets were pulled up over his shoulders, leaving only his head visible.

Lovino sighed as he pulled off his shoes and changed into something more comfortable for sleeping in. He was very quiet as he did so, making sure neither to wake the sleeping Spaniard nor to attract the attention of the others in the palace. He then slid under the covers and to Antonio's side, curling up and wrapping his arm over the top of him. Whispering a good night, he slowly fell asleep, his body heat rising from the company and the covers.

A few hours later, Antonio awoke once more, though this was a more natural awakening than the previous one. He blinked tiredly, groaning at the light of the sun. It was as he tried to roll over that he felt the smaller body beside him. He was careful not to roll on top of Lovino as he turned to face him, smiling as he saw him. At least he knew that Lovino hadn't been out for too long the night before, or else he'd probably just be standing by the wall, watching as he woke up.

Antonio stayed like this for a while, watching the slow breaths of his lover, arms wrapped around him in a loving embrace. Soon, the latter's eyes opened, rising to meet with the emeralds staring back at him. Lovino smiled slightly, snuggling in closer. "Morning." He said tiredly, voice quiet from lack of use over the night.

"Morning." Antonio replied. "Nice to see you here, for a change."

Lovino scowled suddenly. "I'm here most of the time!" His tone was indignant.

He chuckled. "I know~"

They lay there for a while, exchanging small kisses and warmth, enjoying each other's company. Not too long later, however, the prince was forced to get up, since he had to go down for breakfast.

Once Antonio had left, Lovino was still under the covers. He wouldn't easily admit it, but he did miss the warmth provided by the Spaniard, and the king-size bed felt much lonelier with only one body. Still, he had to rest up for that night. Ignoring his wills and wants, he fell asleep once more.

* * *

It was another quiet night. Outside the palace, guards manned the gates, keeping a lawful lookout for anyone with ill intentions. Ever since the attack on Scifo (who had been switched to day duties, rather than night now), the security had been tightened significantly at the palace. It had become at least three times harder to break in now.

One guard yawned, turning to face his fellow guard. They were standing by the back of the palace gates, where barely any people lived or commuted. It was pretty pointless to guard it all night, in the guard's opinion. "Say, how 'bout we go get a drink? I'm parched."

The other guard furrowed his brows. "We're on duty though..."

"And? Like anyone's going to break in back here! There's nobody around, it's completely safe. Even if you're not coming, I'm going anyway." The guard began to walk away, leaving his subordinate to run after him, calling for him to wait up.

Meanwhile, the leader of the gang grinned, a gleaming row of pearls barely visible through the shadowed alleyway. This was perfect! The guards were by far the easiest part of the plan, but due to how smoothly everything was going, he was sure they would definitely reach their goal in no time!

He motioned to his peers to begin the plan. They split, each small group leaving ten minutes apart from the last, so as not to attract too much attention. Everything had been planned meticulously, so this was to be expected. When the leader's group left, he was accompanied by a short, slight man with a slightly girlish figure and a slightly taller man wearing a mask and hat, effectively concealing his entire head from view. The three of them scaled the gate, moving stealthily towards the back entrance.

There was a guard at the door, standing half-asleep as he lazily surveyed the empty gardens. Nothing had come up at the back gate for ages, but he couldn't complain; he got paid just to stand here half-asleep, and that was good enough for him.

However, he was not expecting for something to hit him on the head, knocking him out easily. The attacker dragged the guard away, leaving the door open for the group of three, who quickly snuck inside.

The door had led to the kitchens, which were dark and silent at this time of night. Everything was eerily tidy, not a stray piece of equipment in sight. The leader and the shorter man kept moving forward, allowing the third man to quickly take a tomato from the fridge and hide it in his pocket. From experience he knew it was always good to have a tomato on hand. He then caught up to his peers, making their way collectively towards the door leading to the hall.

Suddenly, as they reached the door, a loud alarm blared through the building, making them cover their ears in an attempt to block out the ringing sound. The two subordinates looked up to their grimacing leader. He turned towards them. "Some fool must have tripped the alarm."

"Are we abandoning the mission?!" The shortest asked, shocked. They had worked so hard on the plan, and it was all falling apart so easily. Or so it seemed.

"No, we must go ahead. Just take care not to be caught. Now, split up!"

Nodding, the three left the room, the leader and shortest man heading in one direction, towards the main halls. The other man nodded to himself before heading in the opposite direction, which he knew would lead him to his goal, he was sure of it.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Helloooo~! It's lovely to see you all again!

Well I can't exactly see you, but I'm sure you're all beautiful people~

Anywho, I hope you're still enjoying the fic! Your reactions are brilliant, honestly, It really makes me smile (mostly because I know what's happening soon...)

Thank you all again for the reviews, favourites and follows! Everytime I see an email in my inbox about a follower or favouriter, I always whipers a little "thank you", because it really makes me happy to know that people are enjoying this fic enough to follow/favourite it!

And when I see a review...I positively jump for joy! It's really nice to know your thoughts on the story, and they really make me smile~

That's basically my extended way of saying "thank you!" to you all.

Sorry for the long AN, I'll just go now.

Arrivederci!

~Random


	9. Alarm

**DISCLAIMER:** No.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Alarm**

Antonio was in bed when he heard the alarm.

He had panicked at first; what on earth could that be, setting off the alarm? He knew his panic was in good reason when his bedroom door opened, one of the parlour maids rushing in and begging for him to follow her, to get out as soon as possible. Antonio tried to ask what was happening, but got no reply, only pleads to leave at once. Trying to calm the maid down, he assured her that he'd be out in no time, and told her to get herself out while she still could.

Once the maid had finally left, Antonio gathered a few things before climbing over the balcony railing as he had seen Lovino do just a few hours ago, and countless times before that. In the dark twilight, he could barely see his own hands, making his footwork careful and his speed much slower than he had hoped. How did Lovino manage to do this almost every night?!

The normally serene gardens were plagued by shadows, dancing in the sharp breeze rushing through the night-time atmosphere. The topiaries in the garden, as magnificent as they should have been, now loomed over the flower beds, strange shapes with dark shadows stretching before them.

Antonio, of course, saw none of this until he had reached the bottom ten minutes later. He panted slightly, worn out by the climb down. He knew he didn't have much time though, and that he had to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. Nodding to himself at the slightly stupid plan forming in his head, he began to walk around the castle's perimeter, looking for a particularly familiar place.

As he walked, he had time to think about what he was doing. Should he be doing this? Shouldn't he be with his parents and the others who lived in their palace? It seemed cowardly, not to fight but to run away with his tail between his legs. Perhaps he should turn back, join his parents in the front hall of the palace and fight against whoever was invading. Or should he continue to run, ensure the continuation of the Spanish royal family line and leave no worry of who was to ascend to the throne?

His conscience overruled him and he immediately forced himself back, running towards the great doors of the palace with no weapon or anything to defend himself with. His parents and staff were in danger, and he couldn't possibly leave them there to fend for themselves.

When he reached the interior of the castle, his eyes widened; it was pandemonium. Men dressed in black chased around, capturing innocent staff members and holding them captive as the victims tried to flee. He immediately saw his mother and father, held with their hands behind their backs and daggers to their throats, crying out in fear.

Antonio couldn't take it anymore. Pushing forward, he sped towards his parents, intent on taking out their attackers, when he was suddenly grabbed by the arm and dragged to the side, allowing his other arm to be caught in a vice-like grip and for a dagger to be placed by his own throat. He grunted, not daring to move for sake of death. He was mere metres away from his shocked parents, who looked horrified; whether it be at their son's stupidity or the current state of affairs, he would never know.

"You!" His mother hissed, looking slightly to the left of her son with eyes of glaring daggers. The identity of the receiver of this glare remained anonymous to Antonio, but it was quite obvious that it must be his attacker, and that his mother had obviously seen this man before. He was not stupid enough to risk being sliced by the blade at his jugular just for the sake of seeing the person who may-or-may-not kill him. He remained still.

The attacker said nothing, allowing the chaos to take over and taking the opportunity to drag the prince back out of the castle. As soon as they were outside, Antonio had one miraculous moment of full breathing, fresh air and no threat of injury before noises began to emanate from the castle and his attacker grabbed him forcefully once more, muttering a cuss in a language that Antonio could barely understand.

The attacker dragged him towards the wall, ignoring the yells of the men running after them. Antonio wasn't sure why the men's own comrades would be chasing after them, but he guessed that they had just been fooled by this masked man. They kept running until finally the masked man stopped, cussing once more before turning to the Prince.

If his next words hadn't given away the man's identity first, then Antonio knew the man's eyes definitely would. A determined hazel-green hue shone determinedly at him, filled with a fire he hadn't seen since certain events on a certain ship over half a year ago had taken place. They glared angrily at him, possibly filled with more emotion than the man's voice as he growled to him, "Get away, bastard!"

Antonio did not move, shocked at the man's identity and confused by his words. "Lovino?"

"Fuck off and get away from this fucking castle! Get out of the country! Just go!" Lovino demanded, showing that he was definitely not one to be refused in this moment. Antonio was confused - Lovino had been his attacker? He had tried to kidnap him, held a knife to his throat...and now he was telling him to escape? These thoughts were spinning through the prince's head, confusing him and disorienting him from what was going on. However, he was no longer frozen in place the next second when he felt himself being shoved towards the wall. "Fucking go!"

Antonio glanced back at his lover, who was concerning himself more with the oncoming mafia men rather than the prince, but Antonio couldn't help himself. He then felt another hand grab his arm, though this one was smaller and more delicate with him than Lovino had been. The person pulled him forward. "Come on, your Highness, we'd better get out of here!" Antonio recognised the voice; Kat, the parlour maid. Antonio hesitated before nodding, running forward without daring to look back.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** SHERLOCK HAS MADE ME A GLASS CAGE OF EMOTION.

*ahem* Sorry.

Here's the chapter.

Thank you as usual for the reviews, follows, favourites, etc. I hope you continue to enjoy this story!

See you on Wednesday.

~Random


	10. Reflection

**DISCLAIMER:** Still don't own Hetalia...

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Reflection**

Two months ago, Antonio would never have believed he'd be in this position.

Heck, two days ago the same theory would apply.

But the fact of the matter was that this was really happening; he was escaping his own country, whose royal family had just been ambushed by mafia men, with his parlour maid (of all people!). He wasn't quite sure how this had happened, and he was sure he'd probably never know exactly how it had happened, but it was happening, and he didn't like it at all.

First of all, he hadn't known anything! All this time, feeling as though people were hiding things from him and there really had been something going on? He wouldn't have believed it, however, if the identity of his attacker hadn't been revealed. That was another point: Lovino, his lover, the one who he'd been so close to and had been together with for what felt like years, took part in the attack! And he hadn't said a word. Antonio couldn't understand why; did the Italian not trust him, or was there something deeper going on beyond the attack?

Perhaps everything that had happened recently was linked to this. A guard was attacked as someone attempted to break in to the palace, someone had tried to kill him at the festival, and the fiasco at the palace; and perhaps it was even worth wondering whether the assassination attempt which brought him aboard the Pomodoro was a part of this too. There were so many possibilities, so many events that had taken place which seemed so similar. Could it all possibly be linked? If so, who could be behind it?

Thinking about the one person he knew had been involved in at least two of these events, Antonio gulped. He didn't want to consider it, but had Lovino been plotting against him, lying to him this whole time?

_No, he couldn't be,_ he thought. _Nobody would fake being in love like he was with me, especially not Lovino, right?_ He was such an introverted person, he would never pretend to love someone if there was a chance he could fall in real love with the person and inevitably end up hurt, right?

These theories of Antonio's floated through his mind for the next few days as he and Kat travelled cross-country. They hitched rides on the backs of merchants' wagons and slept under bridges or in abandoned buildings at night, trying their best to get away without being caught by whoever could be tailing them. Luckily they had some spare change, so when they were in Spain they could buy a few things to eat and drink as they ran. However, after a few days they had reached France, and the escape was becoming harder to manage.

France didn't use the same currency as Spain for a start, and the pair didn't have much money left anyway. Only Antonio could speak any French, but it was generally simple terms and ruder words, neither of which would help when asking to hitch a ride. So the pair was forced to run along with more rests throughout the days (unless they were able to strike lucky and find someone who spoke English or Spanish who could offer them a ride). When they became hungry or thirsty, they stole from market stalls or merchant wagons, putting them in potentially more trouble than they had been in the first place (seeing as how they had now stolen and they were being chased by the mafia).

One night, they were in a small town not too far from Paris. They were tired from all of the travelling they'd done that day - about 78 kilometres of France had been walked that day, taking them just under fifteen hours of blistering feet and grumbling stomachs. When they finally reached the town and found a small, abandoned building, they could have danced in celebration - if only their feet had not felt like they were about to fall off.

The building was old and run-down, sitting on the perimeter of the town, away from most other buildings. It was only a regular sized building, but the darkness surrounding it made it seem as though it loomed over the pair, leaving them with second thoughts about spending their night here. However, they had nowhere else to go, so they forced themselves into the slowly-deteriorating building.

Inside it was as dark and cold as the outside, with a something draft emanating from an unknown source. Cobwebs covered most of the furniture, which was in just as bad a condition as the house itself. It wasn't exactly a first-class inn, but it was all they had so they'd have to make do.

Antonio was eventually able to find a candle on one of the shelves, and matchsticks came later from the kitchen after Kat's search for edible food (of which they found none). It took a while, as many things were in that evening, but soon they were on the lounge chair in what could have been the lounge room, covered in moth-eaten blankets but more comfortable than they would have been in the upstairs bed, whose mattress was laden with bugs and seemed far too unsanitary for them to sleep on. On the table in front of them sat their dimly flickering candle, which provided enough warmth to heat the table around it, but was sadly unable to reach the pair on the chair.

They chatted for a short while, though it was mostly Antonio trying to make conversation whilst Kat sat quietly, shivering despite the blankets and the candle. He tried to take their minds off of the house they sat in, trying to imagine they were in a warm home in the height of winter in front of a blazing fire, or in a cold country in a summer where the warmth was still minimal. He may not have helped Kat's unsettled-ness, but at least she was able to fall asleep eventually. When that happened, Antonio was able to relax and let himself fall asleep too.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Woo! Things are getting interesting!

Sorry for the kinda filler-chapter though "OTL Just developing Antonio's thoughts and some character/plot points here.

Your reactions though oh my god I just-

But don't worry, everything will be explained soon~ uwu

Thank you as usual for everything! You are all really awesome!

See ya on Sunday!

~Random


	11. Surprise

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Surprise**

A few days later, Antonio and Kat were able to reach a familiar little town just outside Paris. They were tired, hungry and sore, but Antonio had a strong hope that they would be able to rest in this town.

What made him so hopeful, you ask? Well, this was the town in which Francis lived.

The Duke's house was on the edge of the town, next to a forest which stretched out for about five miles to the east. It was rather easy to spot, what with its height made up by three floors. The mansion was beautifully kept, with perfectly maintained gardens and not a chip on the exterior wood. Despite having not been in the mansion for a long time, Antonio could easily bet that the inside was just as beautiful.

About a week after they'd left Madrid, Antonio had asked Kat whether they'd be able to stay at Francis' home if they ever came across it in their escape route. Kat had agreed, and the prince's hopes had been kept high. Now they were here, and he couldn't wait to see his best friend again.

It was probably early evening; the sky was gradually darkening and people were beginning to head home for dinner. Antonio hoped they wouldn't be imposing on anything important at Francis' house.

They walked up to the door, the prince taking the lead and knocking thrice on the wood. A few moments later, the door was opened by a young maid. "_Bonsoir, qui est cette-_ oh, Prince Antonio!"

Antonio smiled. "_¡Buenos tardes!_ Would we be able to see Francis, please?"

The maid, obviously flustered by the arrival of someone so regal in such a disheveled state, took a minute or so to find the right English to answer. "Ah, _oui_! Ah, c-come in, I-I'll bring him down." She then tottered off up the stairs, allowing the Spaniard and his parlour maid to enter.

As expected, Francis' home had remained rather lavish, even after all of these years. The furniture was still made of the highest quality fabrics in shades of rich reds and deep purples. The floors were covered by carpets plush enough to sleep upon, and the chandeliers above them glimmered across the room. It was a truly exquisite place to be in; especially compared to the places they'd been staying for the past couple of weeks.

Antonio stood in the centre of the room, admiring the décor, whilst Kat remained by the now closed door, not wishing to intrude or to get dirt all over such a beautiful home. She was in awe of it, Antonio could tell, but something seemed a little off with her. Was she feeling uncomfortable? They could just leave if she wasn't comfortable being there.

It was too late for them to just leave though, because seconds after he thought this the sounds of clacking were heard as they descended the staircase. Down came Francis, looking as wonderful as ever. By the look on his face, Antonio could guess how they looked in comparison.

"_Antoine_, what a surprise it is!" He greeted, walking up to his old friend. "I would embrace you, but _mon ami_, you look terrible!"

The Spaniard chuckled. "Yeah, I probably do, don't I? It's good to see you too, Francis."

Francis smiled before his face became serious again. "So, what on Earth happened to you?"

"Well, it's a long story, but first! Francis, this is Kat." He gestured to the girl behind him, as though telling her to come over.

Francis immediately turned on his charm and sauntered over, extending his right hand. "A pleasure it is to meet you, Kat."

Kat hesitantly gave him her right hand, expecting a handshake, but immediately turned red when the Frenchman gave it a light kiss instead.

Once he was finished, he turned back to Antonio. "You need to get yourself cleaned up, and then we can dine and speak about what happened. I'll have some maids prepare you both a bath."

They nodded, thanking Francis for his hospitality before following the maids upstairs.

A few hours later, Antonio and Kat were feeling much cleaner and fuller of food than they had in weeks. The latter felt so full, in fact, that she felt the need to take a stroll outside. Francis, despite her protests, had insisted that she be accompanied by one of the maids, as it was not safe for her to go alone in such darkness.

After she had left, Antonio and Francis had begun to speak about what had been happening. Antonio told him everything, and Francis had not once interrupted. When he had finished speaking, however, the Frenchman dropped his head into his hands. "_Sacre bleu_, what a messy situation."

"You're telling me," agreed Antonio, bowing his head a little.

Suddenly there was a loud bang – a gunshot. Antonio's and Francis' heads shot up, their faces bearing equal expressions of shock and confusion. However, Antonio's held something more, an element of fear.

Ruffled, Francis shuddered. "Well, that was sudden." His blue eyes met Antonio's green, and he immediately sensed that something was wrong. "What is it?" The worry in his tone was evident.

Antonio's answer didn't need to be long; one word was able to convey the gist of the situation easily to the Frenchman. "Kat."

They sprang up, ignoring the questioning maids who, filled with confusion, were trying to stop them. The rain battered their faces as they ran, blurring their vision and causing a mist to rise on the horizon. Behind the mist, in the direction they were heading, was a forest of fir. Tree roots and fallen branches threatened to trip them as they struggled to run through it. Their vision was impaired by the darkness of the night. Forest dwellers fled from their footsteps. But none of this was noticed. Their focus was on the gunshot and the scream.

It was getting even harder for them to locate the source. Unable to see and lacking of anything that would help them find the location of the sounds, they were left with no idea where to go next. They panted as they decided that they would venture on, only heading back if it got too dark to see at all and there were no other sounds to help them. If they found Kat, great. They'd figure out what to do from there. Their plan was simple.

Or at least, so they thought.

The path twisted and turned, often leading to dead ends. Around them, the silhouettes of trees loomed above. The rain had calmed down but the winds were only just picking up, causing the leaves to rustle loudly, as though in protest. The world was alive.

Eventually, the pair came to a clearing, above which the clouds had parted slightly to allow a sliver of moonlight to illuminate the area. The clearing was mostly grass and wildflowers, completely empty except for the figure kneeling in the centre, their back turned against them.

Antonio stepped forward, his voice hesitant as he called to the form. "Hello?"

The person made a slight movement before saying, "Oh, it's you guys…" The boys relaxed – they'd found Kat.

However, just as Antonio made to speak again, a mechanical clicking noise echoed through the clearing.

They stiffened.

Kat stood, her movements slow and deliberate. As she turned to face them, she raised her right arm. Her face showed no emotion. "Just the people I wanted to see."

The Prince of Spain and the Duke of France's son found themselves in a position they'd never expect to be in with this person on that night: staring down the barrel of a revolver.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Woah, bet ya weren't expecting that!

Or maybe you were, I dunno.

Anywho, I hope you've enjoyed this so far and are still doing so! Thank you as usual for the reviews, follows and favourites, I really appreciate them~

I'll see you on Wednesday, as usual~

~Random


	12. Capture

**DDISCLAIMER:** I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Capture**

Their eyes flicked from the glint of the revolver to the cold glare of Kat, widening in shock. This couldn't be happening, someone like Kat wouldn't do this to them, right?

Antonio had to speak up. "Kat, what are you doing? Put the revolver down-"

"My name," her voice was barely a whisper; "is not Kat."

"What?" The Spaniard's face turned to confusion.

"My name," she repeated, "is Katyushya."

He furrowed his brows. "Okay, so what? It's still got Kat in it-"

"My name," she said once more, her voice much louder now, "is Katyushya Braginski." She snarled slightly, making her words much more intimidating.

Antonio was still oblivious as ever to the threat, but Francis gasped, clutching his friend's arm. He could see the resemblance now, how similar she looked to _him_ in that moment. "Antonio, we have to go-"

"What, so that's your name," he ignored Francis and spoke to Katyushya. "Does it matter? Come on, put the gun down-"

"You do not recognise my name?" Her voice became quieter once more as she asked this. "You do not see the threat presented?"

"Threat? What do you-"

"_Antonio!_" Francis hissed. "Have you never heard of the Braginskis? They are the leaders of the Russian mafia!"

Antonio turned to his friend. "Really? There's a Russian mafia too?"

"_Pour l'amour de Dieu,_ Antonio, we've got to-"

"Are we interrupting something?" A new voice said, her voice even icier than Katyushya's. The pair looked over to see a new arrival, a girl shorter than Katyushya with waist-length blonde hair accessorised by a bow. Her appearance would have looked innocent, were it not for her face, consisting of a scowl to rival Lovino's and a glare that could split concrete. In her gloved hand was a dagger, only visible by the shine of the moon reflecting on it, and the drip of red falling down the blade. "_Cестра_, you could have had them dead by now!"

"Natalya, Ivan wants them alive!" Katyushya protested, her glare vanishing for a minute. "We have to capture them, not kill them!"

"Well then, shouldn't we be doing that, instead of standing here like idiots?" Natalya shot back. "Come on, let's get to work."

Francis and Antonio, who hadn't dared try to escape as the sisters spoke, gulped. They were doomed, weren't they?

"Ladies, please," Francis said charmingly, though his voice still shook with fear. "Let's not cause any trouble now!"

The resulting glare could easily have killed a man, if that were possible. "There would be no trouble if you would stop asking questions and let us capture you already." The younger girl growled.

Francis stepped back slightly, his mouth firmly closed with no retort to be given. Antonio too stayed silent, not sure if words could possibly do them any good now.

Katyushya gave a sweet smile that hid venom behind its innocent appearance. "Good, no more resistance. Now, have a nice sleep, boys."

The males were unable to be confused for long, as almost immediately they were struck on the back of their heads and sent into unconsciousness.

* * *

After having awoken in an unfamiliar carriage with a tight binding restricting their movements, Antonio and Francis spent the next few hours wondering what could possibly be awaiting them at their destination as the Braginski sisters chatted away in a language neither of the men could understand. Upon feeling the carriage come to a halt and without even being informed of why they had stopped, they were then pulled harshly from the carriage by two strong-looking men in black suits before being dragged into a tall building with no identifying marks or features other than its utter grey-ness. The pair could only guess where they were, and only one significant thought occurred as to their whereabouts:

_A headquarters of the Russian Mafia, no doubt._

Of course, they hadn't been travelling for long enough for it to be very far from where they had been captured, as they'd only been unconscious for a couple of hours and then they'd only been travelling for five or so more after that, but even that couldn't tell them which country they were in.

The interior of the building was just as dreary as the exterior; everything they passed, whether it was a simple table or a complicated piece of machinery, was in dark shades of black, grey and brown. It was as though the world had just been turned to monochrome, all of the colour having been sucked out of the very soul of the planet.

Antonio didn't like it, but then again, who would?

When they finally reached their destination, it turned out to be a door. One of the men knocked in a specific but irrelevant pattern on the door, which was answered with a series of taps on what sounded like a wooden desk. The man then opened the door and allowed them to enter.

It was more colourful than the other rooms in the building, with varying shades of red painting the walls and covering the floor. A desk stood in the centre of the room, with two wooden chairs sitting on their side of it. To the desk's right, in the far corner was a dying plant, and in the left was a plain filing cabinet. Behind the desk was a window, looking out onto the grey world outside, but what was in front of that was more interesting. In a majestic throne-like chair on the opposite side of the desk sat a rather large man. His shoulders were broad and his posture good, making the man seem even taller, despite that he would most likely tower over both Antonio and Francis (who were reasonably tall, mind you) or possibly even the even taller Ludwig (who stood at about 180cm, at last measurement) if he stood up. His hair was of a similar shade to Katyushya and Natalya's. His eyes, however, stood out even from his smart suit or fancy ring. They were an ice blue, though perhaps 'violet' seemed a better word to describe them, but unlike many other sets of eyes, these were unreadable. One could not possibly tell what he was thinking in that moment, when he gave the newcomers a serene smile and told them hello, that he'd been expecting them.

The only thing they could tell about this man was that he was the leader of the Russian mafia, Ivan Braginski, and it would probably be best to be _very_ afraid of him.

* * *

**Translations**

_Pour l'amour de dieu_ - For the love of God (French)  
_Cестра_ - Sister (Russian)

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I'm sorry "OTL

To be honest, I have no excuse for forgetting to upload this on time, I just forgot. I'm sorry...

Thanks again for all of your support, it's much appreciated!

Until Sunday,

~Random


	13. Agreement

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Hetalia or its characters.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Agreement**

"Greetings, comrades," Ivan smiled at them, though this was not a smile that could inject trust into the pair. "How lovely it is to have visitors of such a high class!"

He stood from his seat, his movements slow and deliberate. Not only did he reveal his height, which was as predicted staggering, but he also revealed the dark suit he wore, pristine underneath the rather worn scarf gracing his neck. He then began to walk at a leisurely pace around the desk and behind his visitors. "The son of the Duke of France, the visitor I didn't expect, but it is still wonderful to meet you." By this point he was directly behind the space between Francis and Antonio. "But of course, then there is our star guest!" He moved towards Antonio. "The very Prince of Spain, only heir to the throne…it is an honour," he grinned, coming up to the Prince's vision again and grinning. "I would shake your hands, but it seems you are a little tied up."

Antonio glared at the Russian, giving him no response.

Ivan chuckled. "Not very talkative, are you?" He moved back behind his desk, but remained standing. "Well, how about I give you something to talk about?" He opened a drawer to his left, fishing through it before pulling out a small stack of papers and placing them on the desk facing Antonio.

Antonio leaned over slightly, unable to pick up the papers, and tried to read what they said. A lot of the text was in Russian, but the title had been written in English, which he was able to decipher more easily. "Spanish-Russian Monarchical Agreement?" he said uncertainly, looking up at the Russian with a raised eyebrow.

Ivan nodded, seemingly pleased with this response. "Yes, exactly right. Does it sound interesting to you?"

"It would be more interesting if I could understand the rest of it."

"Oh, of course!" he chuckled. "I shall have to translate for you then. To cut the long story short, I have a proposition for you, in regard to the monarchy of Spain." When no reply was given, he continued. "I want you to step down as royal heir and hand the throne to us."

Silence fell.

"Wait, what?" Antonio said in disbelief, eyes widening. "Even if I wanted to sign your agreement, I couldn't! My parents are the one in charge of the throne, not me, and why would I want to risk the safety of my people by handing them over to someone I cannot trust!"

"Ah, but you do not see, your Highness, that your parents have already signed their consent with our Italian affiliates for them to step down from the throne. We cannot take the throne by ourselves – the one thing we need is a signature, and I'm sure you know who that's from."

So the Italian mafia had been the ones to attack the castle, and seemingly capture his parents. Antonio couldn't believe it. "How dare you even think for one moment I would put my people, the people who have grown respect for me and hope for me to give their kingdom prosperity, in the hands of a _mafia boss_ of all people!" He laughed. "I will never sign your stupid form."

Ivan's smile seemed to gain a rather dark air, as though venom was laced into his lips. His eyes became dark, in a slightly twisted and sadistic manner, as though he had something terrible planned and he was going to love every moment of our torment; perhaps this was true. He acted innocent though, merely telling us, "Well, if you need persuasion, I know exactly the person who can help." He then picked a small hand bell out of his desk drawer and rang it three times, giving a two-second rest between each ring. Moments later the door opened.

"Yes, brother?" the voice asked. It was familiar in its sound, but the tone was entirely different; Antonio could have sworn Natalya was speaking, though this time she did not growl, and spoke in a rather pleasant manner. Ivan seemed a little unsettled, but remained cheerful nonetheless.

"Go fetch _the subject_. I feel that he will be able to help with our transaction."

"Yes brother." She then left the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.

None of the three men spoke after that until Natalya returned a few minutes later, dragging someone behind her. She walked around Francis' side, throwing the body down in such a way that Antonio could not possibly see who the person was. Ivan thanked her and she left quickly, leaving them in peace once more.

Ivan leaned over and picked up the body, standing the person upright so his visitors could see their face. The prisoner had most likely been subject to a lot of torture, judging by his numerous wounds and the blood staining his clothes. He was bound by both the legs and the body, almost fully restricting his movements, and a black cloth was tied around his mouth as a gag. A black eye graced the right of his face, and his right was covered by a rather dark reddish fringe. The only way that Antonio recognised this man was by the unruly curl sticking up to the right of the man's hair, as though independent from the rest of the body. Antonio was shocked.

"Lovino?!"

Lovino's head jerked up suddenly, both his swollen and concealed eyes finding Antonio and widening slightly. They were surprised and pained, the look in them saying, _'how the hell did _you _get here?!'_

Ivan was positively glowing. "Ah, it's wonderful how love brings us together, _da_?"

Antonio and Lovino glared at Ivan, or at least tried to do so. Francis was staring off to his left, seemingly lost in his daydreams. Nobody took any notice.

"What the hell do you want from us?" Antonio asked, his voice like a brewing storm.

"I've already told you, but I'll say it differently this time." Ivan leaned over the desk, his hand still tightly grasping Lovino's hair and the other resting underneath him on the desk. He then spoke, his voice much lower and much more serious than it had been at any other point in the conversation. "Give us the throne, or watch your lover die."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I am sorry for two things:

The first is once again being late with a chapter (won't happen again, I swear!), and the second is for making Russia the bad guy, which is saddly commonplace in the world of Hetalia fanfiction. To be honest, I couldn't think of another character that would work that I hadn't already used for something else.

Now yeah, sorry for the cliffy, I do that a lot "orz.

Thank you once again for all of your support so far, I very much appreciate it, especially after such a stressful time with prelims and other things.

I'll see you (for definite, this time) on Wednesday.

Until then,

~Random


	14. Tension

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Tension**

It was quite funny, how easily they managed to escape the Russian mafia HQ. Now, running through the French countryside with no idea in which direction they were headed, it all seemed like a far-off memory.

Neither Antonio nor Lovino nor even Ivan had noticed when Francis was able to free his arms from their bonds, having had, in his words, "a world of experience" of being "tied up". None of them wanted to ask in what context he meant this either.

In fact, they didn't notice him slowly sliding his chair back either, not until he had hit the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Seconds later, a loud alarm started blaring through the building, alerting all of the staff to evacuate the building immediately. Ivan was furious, but as soon as he reached the light switch and relit the bulbs, the Frenchman was gone, the two-storey window behind the desk left wide open after him. The Russian immediately left the room, most likely going in search of the escapee, which was his big mistake. Francis was then able to re-enter the room through the same window (he had hidden on the roof above so Ivan could not see him) and untie his friends, allowing the trio to escape to the roof.

It had then been a case of trying not to be spotted in such an obvious place whilst also trying to get down to the ground and get as far away as possible from the HQ. They stayed low to the roof, crawling to the side facing the forest, which was, luckily for them, furthest from Ivan and the rest of his mafia men. Reaching the edge, they were lucky to see that there was a balcony not too far below them, and some trees in close enough proximity for them to jump onto them from the balcony. Nobody was near this side of the building, so they were not caught as they lowered themselves from the branches and ran through the forest to freedom.

Of course, they knew the Russians would probably be chasing after them, furious at their escape. They didn't really think about this until the euphoria started to wear off and the pain settled in. Lovino was especially worn out, though he pressed that he could manage, that he wouldn't let them be held back because of his injuries. However, when darkness overwhelmed them, the trio agreed that they needed to find shelter for the night.

They found this in a little cave in an unfamiliar rock face, the entrance obscured by bushes and shrubs and the darkness. They didn't go too far inside, only far enough that they couldn't be seen from the outside. In the cold and damp they then remained, nothing to light a fire with or to eat or drink within any manageable distance of them.

Antonio took this chance to ask Lovino the questions which had been storming through his mind since the attack on his home.

"Why is this happening, Lovino?" he asked tiredly. "Why are we being chased by the Russian mafia?"

"They told you, they want power," Lovino answered just as tiredly, if not more so. "They want to take over your kingdom."

"Is that why the Italian mafia attacked the palace?"

The Italian narrowed his eyes but nodded.

"Was the guy who tried to break in part of the mafia too?"

"I don't know, maybe? Can you let me rest, Toni, I'm exhausted." He rested his head against the cave wall, closing his eyes, but Antonio persisted.

"Were you in on it, Lovino?"

"In on what?"

"I don't know, the attack, the break in, the festival…"

Lovino sat up straighter, giving his lover an accusing glare. "What are you trying to say here, Antonio?"

"Were you trying to kill me too?" he asked bluntly, his voice no longer as calm as it had been. "Were you the one who attacked Scifo, or the one who tried to kill me at the festival? I know you were definitely in on the castle attack-"

"Antonio!" Lovino interrupted, anger and betrayal coursing through his veins. "Why the hell would I be the one trying to kill you?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you've been keeping things from me, leaving late at night and not returning for hours on end? Don't you think I have the right to be suspicious?!" Antonio snapped back, his weeks of confusion and frustration finally spilling out.

"If I wanted to kill you I could have just done it at any time, you were right beside me every night!" Lovino yelled back. "Do you seriously think I would be plotting against you-"

"You held a knife to my throat! You threatened to kill me!"

"I was trying to protect you-"

"Oh, and you think holding me hostage and trying to kidnap me is going to protect me, huh?"

"I can't believe you could be so fucking stupid-"

"WILL YOU BOTH SHUT UP!" Francis interrupted, annoyed by the argument. He turned to Lovino. "Explain what's been going on, Lovino, you've tortured him for long enough. And Antonio," he turned to his friend, "would you please just listen to what Lovino has to say? Maybe then you'll understand things a bit more."

Both men nodded, apologising for their argument. Francis then left, claiming he needed some "fresh air".

There was silence for a few minutes. It was a painful silence, something Antonio had never experienced before, and especially not with Lovino. Every second of it felt like a shard was being pushed further into him, making the Spaniard want to scream in agony. When he spoke, however, his voice was meek. "I'm sorry, Lovino. I overreacted."

"It's fine. I shouldn't have kept so much from you anyways, so I suppose I'm sorry too."

They were quiet again for a few minutes before Lovino spoke once more.

"The story of how this all came about is a pretty long one, so don't fall asleep halfway through it."

"Don't worry; I don't want to miss a single letter of it." Antonio chuckled weakly, making Lovino give a small smile too.

"Alright, so it all began nineteen years ago, on your sixth birthday…"

* * *

**Author Notes:** I'm on time this time! Hurrah!

And yeah, more cliffies, but at least this one isn't quite so horrible?

Thank you, thank you, thank you all for the support! I really do appreciate it, honestly.

Until Sunday~

~Random


	15. Truth

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Truth**

_12th February, 19 years earlier._

Today was a day of celebration in the heart of Spain, for it was the sixth birthday of the sole heir to the throne, Prince Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Despite that usually a sixth birthday would not call for so much celebration as, say, an eighteenth would, the young prince was being thrown a special party to commemorate the occasion.

The civilians of Madrid were not all invited of course – only close friends of the family were able to attend the party – but that didn't stop them from being cheerful as they went about their everyday business. Street vendors would chat away happily to their customers, becoming nostalgic over it having been six whole years since the much-anticipated announcement of their future king's birth and remembering when he had been but a babe, the size of a loaf of bread, wrapped up in his mother's warm embrace. It had been a moment that the whole nation had cherished. The atmosphere in the town was cheerful, and even the four Italian tourists who didn't fully understand what was going on couldn't help but join them in smiling.

Romulus Vargas, Captain of the soon-to-be pirate ship 'The _Pomodoro_' and his male descendants had come to Madrid only too enjoy themselves, as they had for many other places as they travelled through the Mediterranean. Of course, they didn't dare stray too far from home – Romulus' daughter-in-law was pregnant with her third child, and it would destroy her husband to miss the child's birth.

Their other children had come along on the trip to Spain, eager to see what it was like in other countries. The younger was in awe, happily dancing along the streets and waving at random passers-by. The elder, on the other hand, was disappointed. He couldn't see much difference between Madrid and Rome; it was hot, there were loads of old buildings, the streets were pretty narrow… The only difference he could find was that Madrid was blindingly colourful (though he assumed this was because of some festival or celebration) and that he couldn't understand a thing anyone said to him. How annoying.

The only thing more annoying was that their father had gone missing at some point and they couldn't find him _anywhere_. He guessed that was one of the disadvantages of being a tourist in a new country.

They eventually found their father, who seemed ecstatic to see them. He informed them that he'd stopped some bad men from doing something terrible to the King, and that the King had hence invited him, in his gratitude, to attend his son's party that very night.

In truth, he later told his children that the "bad men" had been assassins, though not very well-trained ones, from the Italian mafia. He had prevented their assassination of King Fernando from happening, but the consequences of this caused more trouble than it could have possibly been worth for the family.

_December, 17 years later._

The night is often considered to be peaceful, quiet. In cities, however, it generally is almost the opposite. However, the noise of this particular evening was not a negative aspect in the mysterious man's opinion as he shoved Julio against the wall. Julio grunted, squirming away from the silhouette's touch. The unnamed man leaned closer, muttering in a low voice. "You ruined our plans, so you must pay the consequences. It's only polite, no?"

"It's been 17 years, surely it can't be that important-"Julio said quickly, wishing he wasn't in such a position.

"It was important enough that your family will become sacrifices for your actions." The assassin growled.

Julio's eyes widened, fear illuminating his hazel eyes as he thought of his family; safe, unknowing. He could not allow anything to happen to them. He shook his head vigorously. "No, please, I'll do anything, just don't hurt them!"

His attacker loosened his grip slightly, grinning as he whispered, "You have until the Prince's 25th birthday. You know the consequences." He then proceeded to let go of Julio's neck and slink away into the darkness, vanishing with the shadows.

Julio slid down the wall, chest heaving as he recovered from the cacophony of emotions racing through him. He grimaced as he realised what he'd just done. Had he just agreed to kill the Prince of Spain?

_Why,_ he asked himself,_ what have I done to be so cursed?_

And so, the night continued on, time progressing as the moon rose higher into the sky. The shadows of the reflected light masked the alleyway, hiding the events of the night in a memory.

_January, one month later._

The older two Vargas siblings stared at their father in shock, hardly believing what he was asking of them. Why would he put it on his own sons to do something so dangerous as assassinate the Prince of Spain? It seemed downright cruel, an act of bad parenting for sure.

The elder brother argued, telling his father that he could never do something like that, and he shouldn't be making them either. He was especially protective over his brother, who couldn't hurt a fly, never mind _kill_ someone. Their father was being absurd, thinking two people who had not long since been teenagers could _possibly_ get away with murder.

Then again, people had done so before, and certainly would do so again.

In the end, the elder brother's arguments were to no avail, and the brothers were forced to accept their task in assassinating the Prince.

As they left the room, they were encountered by their grandfather, who wanted to speak to them. Once they were alone in his study, he told them not to kill the Prince, but to make him think he was being killed before kidnapping him and taking him onto their ship, where they would decide what to do with him.

When the older brother asked why they were to do this, the grandfather simply laughed and said, "Your father is not the one in charge of who dies on my ship, and I will not have my grandchildren becoming murderers, especially not of royalty."

It was a month or so later that the operation took place, and that is where the story _really_ began.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Of course, you've already been told a lot of that story, haven't you?

Hehe, hello! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and are glad that I'm finally telling you what's going on. I know you've waited patiently for it.

Thank you all once more for your reviews, follows, favourites and continued support! I don't know where I'd be without you all.

See you on Wednesday!

~Random


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